


Chrysalis

by Enterthetadpole



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Actors, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Guitarist!Rhett, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Punk!Link, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2019-12-06 23:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18226835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enterthetadpole/pseuds/Enterthetadpole
Summary: Link Neal: Musician. Singer. Rock Star. Asshole.Until he got the chance to star in a Hollywood film that will finally launch him into a film career. He just needs to learn his lines, stop sleeping around until the film is completed, and learn how to play a classical guitar. No problem, until it is...





	1. Bottled Redhead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [its_mike_kapufty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_mike_kapufty/gifts).



> This story has been on my mind for a while and finally got the time to work on it. It is not been beta read and my editing is not the greatest, so I apologize for errors. Anyone who wants to take on the task of editing assistance I will adore you for it! Comments and kudos are always wonderful if you have them to give. This story has been fully outlined and will be completed. <3

His eyes fluttered opened and Link already knew that it was going to be a bad one. One of those legendary hangovers that he would write a song about. A ballad that mixed metaphors about alcohol and crazy women being one in the same. Intoxicating and dangerous to all of the senses. Leaving a man to hold his head in both pride and shame. The melody would be slow and soulful. Full of emotions that would echo through the chambers of his voice. He would have to write down a few of the words before he lost them. 

He shifted his body to reach for his phone. His finger gripped at nothing but the stale air of the late morning. The groan made him stop. It wasn’t from him, and with a jolt of annoyance he realized that he wasn’t the only one in his bed. The hair was the first thing that he noticed when he twisted over to the left. Whoever the fuck this person was he already hated from keeping him from his work. Why the hell were they still here?

The waves of crimson curls were appealing enough. They rippled like waves from the top of her head all the way down to the curves of her naked rear end. The makeup was smeared, but even with that she was incredibly pretty. The pale skin glistened as she groaned again, and opened her eyes, then smiled. The look on Link’s face made her shift her expression almost at once. The rounded lips tilted downward in awareness, and then confusion. 

“You need to go.”

More confusion. This time within the crease of her much darker eyebrows. The red hair apparently was a lie along with her slurred words that she just didn’t do this type of thing. In flashes Link remembered patchy parts of this woman. Some vague after party thrown that had weaved its way from the concert venue to his own mattress last night. The only things held on in his rum soaked mind was that she was legal -  _ he had checked multiple times _ \- and that she enjoyed anal -  _ which he also had thoroughly explored as well _ . 

She lifted herself onto her knees. Her small breasts perky and soft, though Link had no desire to touch them again. He already was on his phone, typing a few random lines of a new song in the notepad section. His thumbs moving at the speed that he silently willed on the stranger leaving his bed. The black comforter tugged against his torso, and that had him glancing up again. The woman had wrapped herself around it like a cocoon as she had left the bed without a word. To head towards the crumpled little red dress near the master bathroom door.  _ Good _ . At least he didn’t have to make small talk at all. This one  _ definitely _ knew the routines of a one night stand. That would be a point in her favor if Link was to ever see this one again. 

Link snorted at the idea, his eyes already back onto the screen and now lazily scrolling through a list of frantic texts from the previous night, Apparently somewhere in all of this he had totally left Chase out to dry. The random messages going from moderately sober and concerned to being in all caps and full of half formed words and then opened threats to  _ HUNT U DONE _  if he didn’t text him back before noon tomorrow.

It was only 10:30. He had time before Chase started calling like a ruffled mother hen. In the meantime, the bottled redhead was staring at him. Her dress was back on, with her lacy black underwear stuffed into the tiny gold purse slung over her left shoulder. The break necking golden stilettos dangled as well from her right hand and her face was prepared to ask a question in spite of her really not wanting to. 

“Yeah?”

She swallowed hard, trying her best to look dignified even with what had happened last night all the way through the early parts of this morning. Her stance mildly defiant and geared for a fight. 

“My...my phone is dead. Need to call an Uber or something.”

It was a fair request, and that’s what irritated Link more than anything else. The need to have to be sociable enough to get this woman out of his life was already making his throbbing headache fifty times worse. Within a few button pushes, he had a private luxury vehicle on it’s way. Then he pointed towards the door of the bedroom. 

“Black car will be here in less than twenty. The front door is down the hallway and to the right. Bottles of water are in the mini fridge. Take one before you leave.”

Her mouth actually fell opened. It was almost comical, and it took all of the effort that Link possessed not to laugh. Still she didn’t say anything else, though the stomps of her bare feet against the smooth marbled floors of his bedroom spoke volumes. 

_ Asshole. Jerk. Fuckboy. Slut. Prick. _

At least Link got a good view as she bent over to open the mini fridge and grab a bottle of water. Definitely he remembered that bent over position from last night. Might even use that memory in the shower later today. 

“There are cameras everywhere, so…”

Her glare was intense at the implication of stealing any of his shit, but at least she saw no reason to comment. Then within another couple of minutes she was gone. Her shoes still in her  hand as she padded off and veered to right. Then with a final  _ Fuck You _ in the form of a door slam, she was gone. Good.

He received a text notification about five minutes later.

 

**Good morning from All Star Limo. Your driver Thomas has arrived and has picked up passenger Madison. The requested ride is for $175 to take Madison to Hollywood Hills. Do you agree to this charge?**

 

Madison? What an expected name. With a short text of acceptance Link turned his attention to finding out where his skinny jeans from last night were. His e-cig would be in there and fuck did he need a nicotine fix right now. Even the small amount of dialogue with that girl had been draining and stressful. Maybe he needs to just start fucking people without vocal chords. No, he enjoyed hearing them moan too much for that. 

Still the morning kept on, the meandering that Link did in his LA home. Too small to be seen as a mansion, but large enough to make the neighbors tolerate the loud noises and the comings and goings of groupies. Men and women of various ages and sizes. All hopeful smiles on the way in and different shades of disappointment as they were driven away. A couple of them stayed longer, but more for the novelty than actual interest. 

The only people who seemed to be genuinely welcomed were Chase and the other band members of  _ Phoenix Rising _ . The four of them had been together for the better part of five years, which in times like these was extraordinary. Even more so with Link's reputation and stints in rehab. The only one who made a valiant effort to hang onto the ropes of the crazy train known as Link Neal was standing on his front steps. His banging on the door echoed through all of the rooms as Link eventually made it to his bass player. 

“Tell me you at least used protection with this one,” Chase muttered once the door had been opened. “It was only  _ one _ this time, right?”

Link already was walking back into the kitchen area without even a second glance. His trim body still fresh from the shower and the tattoos all over his bare chest and arms mapping out a tale. Full sleeves created by the same artist. Inked with a unicorn and griffin on the right arm, leaned heavily on the butcher block counter. The left arm painted a phoenix in flight and underneath it a mermaid swimming through crystal blue water.

“You also could have texted me when you bailed.”

Link rolled his eyes at the comment. He shouldn't have bothered answering the door at all. This was not what either of them needed right now. Chase wore too many hats as it was. Bass player. Self appointed public relations manager. Unofficial Link Neal babysitter. 

“Did you just come here to lecture me on the necessities of boring sex, or did you actually have a reason to be busting on my front door?”

Chase puffed out a breath of air, and it made him look so much older than he was. Link was at least ten years his senior and yet Chase was acting like the adult in the room. His spiked hair looking ready to spear Link if he kept with the shitty attitude.

“ _ Safe _ sex,” Chase corrected.

“Whatever man. I wore a condom, all right? Want to see proof? Trash can next to my bed.”

That had the effect that Link wanted, and Chase shook his head as he took a seat at the sparse kitchen table after he placed an envelope on the glass surface. Then watched Link’s gaze dart over to it before once more focusing on his half drunk cup of coffee. 

“They’re starting to write to  _ me _ now,” Chase said warily. “If you don’t want to the part, then just fucking tell them. There are a lot of actors who would kill to get offered this role.”

Actors indeed. Sure, there had been other names thrown out there in the news. Brad Pitt was the most recent one, and it was him that had Link finally reading the script he was sent. It wasn’t a really new thing. Lots of rock stars went into movies, but they usually were crappy ideas to capitalize on their sex appeal. This movie though, had been something that made Link feel something deeper inside. 

“The studio said they want someone who  _ knows _ how to sing,” Link muttered, still not looking back over, and much to Chase’s irritation. “And Pitt can’t carry a tune in a fucking bucket, no matter how many girls and guys he gets all hot and bothered.”

“They  _ also _ want their leading man to show up on time on set and not get a STD before the catering truck arrives on the first day,” Chase reminded, his hands taking the letter off of the counter again and holding it out for Link. “If you’re  _ serious _ about making this leap to film, go to them and formally accept their offer. The band will be fine while you’re off becoming more famous. Or infamous, considering this is you.”

There was a stalemate between the two men, trying to see who would blink first. Link had stubbornness on his side, but unlike the man sitting across from him, his throbbing headache was so much worse. He’d agree, even to just get Chase the hell out of his house. 

“Fine...okay,” he said. The letter felt heavy in his hand as he took it, and then opened it quickly to pull out the details of the final meeting with the studio. 

“Thanks,” Chase grumbled, getting to his feet and heading back towards the front door. “I’ll see my way out, and for god’s sake, put on a  _ fucking _ shirt for the meeting. Leave the tortured musical genius for the stage or the screen.”

Luckily for Chase’s sanity he missed the being flicked off behind his back. The door slammed for the second time today, and Link was left alone to ponder the letter again. Unfolding it for a much closer look now that Chase wasn’t there to be glaring at anymore. 

 

**Dear Mr. Chase Hilt,**

 

**Our attempts to reach Mr. Link Neal have been unsuccessful. The dates for the agreement for him to star in the Dark Horse studio film** **_Chrysalis_ ** **is fast approaching, and we do have additional documentation for him to look over in sign. This needs to be looked at with him, and not just his lawyer, Mrs. Yvonne Dudley. Please reach out to Mr. Neal and have him come to our studio in Burbank on April 11th at 2:30pm, or we will have no other choice but to cancel the agreement. Thank you for your time in this manner. Our contact information is listed below if there are any additional questions.**

 

**Sincerely,**

**Jason Wells**

At least the time wasn’t horribly early, and he still had a few days to get something fitted for seeing the head of the studio. Link stretched his back as he rubbed at the tattoo on the front of his right shoulder. 6-17-1999 in large blocky letters, looking much more faded then all of his newer ink. It took a moment to realize why the area was bothering him until his finger tips grazed the slightly raised scratch mark. Apparently Madison did leave something to remember her by.

He wished she had stolen some of his shit instead. 

 


	2. Suits Were Created In Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for staying with the story. Comments and kudos always encourage! ❤️

Lnk  _ hated _ suits. Everything about them conveyed the uptight part of his life that he had run away from so many years ago. The stuffy church services. School functions. Proms. The jackets and button down shirts as stiff as his smiles. At some point, his mother gave up on trying to put him in anything that she called  _ respectable. _ It was just easier to proclaim that her only child was just a stallion that couldn't be tamed. It was the first of many times that Link would wear his defiance as a real badge of honor. And that was before the pleasure of skin surrounding him became his new favorite thing.

Now he faced a version of himself staring back in the mirror. The hair combed, but still fighting the shell of normalcy like a some sort of caged beast. The glasses replaced the contact lenses that made him look uncomfortably like his father. This was not good. This was the epitome of all things in the stratosphere that were not good.

Despite Chase's announcements that he  _ was tired of getting involved, _ there was text after text checking in.

  
  


**(11:05am) Please tell me you're actually up.**

 

**(11:56am) How about now?**

 

**(12:15pm) Dude, really?**

 

***1 missed call from Chase***

 

**(12:49pm) Fine. Don't answer me. Fuck you.**

 

**(1:44pm) The studio let me know you were on the way. Call me after.**

 

**(1:47pm) I mean it.**

  
  
  


Link smirked at the last message, already onto better things to do in the limo that was driving him to the studio. Emails were boring. Couple of texts from his lawyer and Alex, their drummer. Both full of wary congratulations that had been earned through the years.

The drive to the studio was uneventful, except for the small clusters of Los Angeles traffic that made Link so happy that he didn't drive anymore. It was finally getting to the main entrance of his destination that Link realized wearing a suit had been a good decision. Dark Horse Studios wasn't the biggest by far in Tinseltown, but the looming dark blue backdrop and the slow turns up curving streets were imposing enough for Link to adjust his collar and cuffs a couple of times.

“Mr. Neal, so nice to see you!”

The small woman in a smart, dark green knee-length dress was barely containing her smile as she greeted Link at the large glass doors. Her mousy brown hair held back with a plastic hair clip of some sort. The perfume was slightly too strong and she wore comfortable flats made for racing around for coffee and doing mundane errands.

“Heather Gregson,” she said, her hand held out for a hopeful handshake. “Personal assistant of Jason Wells.”

“Call me Link,” he corrected, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the inner lobby and ignoring Heather's hand. “Mind if we head inside? My hair just isn't made for the California heat.”

The young woman dropped her hand at the next second and her eyes shifted onto her smartphone. Link followed her into the doorway into a posh sitting area covered with large painting of smiling executives and up and coming movie stars. The type that were going to be larger names after a few blockbusters under their belt.

It was hard to keep himself from already speculating on what the future might bring. The excitement of being here was coming into his chest in miniature burst. He pressed his hands in his pockets to stop himself from touching the textured walls as they zipped past. Maybe he should have paid more attention to the salary offer. It was obvious that this place could afford more than whatever Yvonne had negotiated.

Despite Heather's much shorter legs, she had the elements of ten years of youth and the knowledge of where they were headed. Even with her furiously tapping her thumbs on her phone screen, the straight lines and sharp corners of the path were navigated like a pro. Link huffed to stay with her. Annoyed that they were not showing down enough for him to look into the opened doors of rooms properly. How in the hell was he supposed to snoop when he wasn't given the chance?

Finally, a possible destination was beyond the next large set of doors. It was like stepping up to the wizard's throne room in the Wizard of Oz. Except instead of emerald green, Link was faced with giant wooden doors with ornate carvings of what looked like lions and tigers.

Just a couple of random bears and the Wizard of Oz motif would be complete.

“Mr. Wells will be with you in just a few minutes,” Heather said, pulling her eyes away from her phone and up to Link's face. It was only then that Link noticed that they were a light hazel color. She seemed much prettier all of a sudden.

Damn it. He should have shaken her hand earlier.

Before Link could muster up a charming smile, Heather was already off again back down the long hallway. Her sensible shoes making soft sounds that still seemed to echo in the massive hallways, and again with her head bowed as she typed on her phone.

Now Link was even more out of place than before. A mess of nerves and tattoos underneath a fitted suit that he would be burning into ashes once he got back to the house. This was worse than any first night jitters in front of a bunch of screaming fans. At least on stage he would have the music and adrenaline to keep him grounded. Plus, he wouldn't have to wear a shirt. A fucking bonus if he ever had one.

The booming noise of the thick wooden door opening yanked him back into the present. His gaze swept up to a fairly good looking man in a pinstriped suit and dazzling smile. He had thick, dark hair full of the type of curls that probably got this man teased as a child, and bright, hazel eyes that looked so similar to Heather’s that Link wondered if they might be related.

“Link,” the man beamed, his hand extended. Link took it with a much sweatier hand than he wished. “So nice to see you. Please come in. We have much to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to my beta reader supersassybatgirl. You are awesome! ❤️


	3. Contracts and Negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting!

The inside of the office was as large as Link had envisioned. The smell of cigar smoke and leather almost seeped into Link’s pores.

It was the type of place that you could tell that deals were made. Where handshakes happened that helped transform unknown beautiful faces to household names and tons of fanfiction. Link drank it all in. It was the lushness of a different type of high that couldn’t be found in the bottom of a bottle or rattling around in a gel cap. He had arrived, as the cheesy saying went. He just needed to stay smoothly indifferent to sign a few more sheets of paper, and then a hefty check would be in his bank account before the end of the next week.

On the back wall, there was a collection of photos of the celebrities that had come and gone through the little studio. This place was a launching point, of course. Both the studio and the gaggle of up and coming stars knew this to be the case. It was nothing that anyone was ashamed of within the industry. Mr. Wells above all seemed fully aware of what they were. Link took in every part of the huge room. His eyes darted around as much as he dared without looking too taken aback by the very grandness of it all.

Mr. Wells stood behind his desk and welcomed Link to sit down across from him. The light hit his hazel eyes in a way that was pleasing enough to keep Link interested in the smooth lines of his face. The delicate, light colored curls swayed in the slight breeze as the man tilted his head down at the surface of dark wood look over the contract laid out.

“There isn’t much else to really go over,” Mr. Wells admitted. His eyebrows arched in an almost apologetic way. “Just wanted to make sure that I got to see you face-to-face to go over a few last minute changes. Not wanting you to commit to over a year of production and advertising without knowing all of the facts.”

Link already was not liking where this was going and in his mind, he was scolding Yvonne. He was fairly sure that she was screening any phone call from him with the precision of a hawk. Her dark brown eyes rolling as she listened to each one of his angry messages about how the studio had  _ wasted his time  _ and how  _ this was the fucking reason he paid her to deal with this shit _ . Still, the man in front of him was good looking enough to at least give him different places to drift off as he droned on about the boring technical things related to movies. The curls for one were definitely able to keep Link aroused. How would they feel in between his fingers as they were pulled. If that dazzling smile could be twisted into a moan of -

“Mr. Neal?”

Link blinked. His eyes shifted back into focus to Mr. Wells’ frowning expression. It was odd to see how angular the man’s face could become when there was no toothy grin spread across his lips. Like he hadn’t needed a reason to scowl for such a long time that his jaw muscles just wasn’t used to the movements needed.

“Sorry,” Link said quickly. “Was just…”

Mr. Wells was leaning forward with his eyebrows raised, preparing to hear one hell of a good excuse for Link zoning out.

“Are you single, Mr. Wells?”

Link just didn’t do embarrassment. It wasn’t part of what came with the tattoos or strong jawline or anything else connected to the swagger and surefooted attitude of being a rock star. If social norms ever reared its regal head, then Link not only gave it the middle finger, he would punch it in the face with the glee of half-crazed schoolboy. Mr. Wells, for his part, only looked startled for a few moments. Then his stunning smile was back and Link saw the tenseness leave his arms and elbows.

“Your reputation seems to be well placed, Link,” Mr. Wells chuckled. Link smirked at his first name now being used. “I’m single, yes...but I’m not sure if that has ever been a dealbreaker with you anyway, right?”

This was true, sure. Link always went after what he wanted. Just as long as whatever the  _ what  _ involved was fun to look at, more fun to touch, and knew when the fuck to leave. Still, there were enough close calls of the past for Link to have finally taken Chase’s pleading advice to make sure to get proper IDs and to install cameras in his house. The latter cost him way more than he had wanted, but it was worth it in the long run.

“Not a dealbreaker,” Link admitted, “But it’s a whole lot less messy when it’s just the interested parties, if you get my meaning.”

Mr. Wells seemed to get the meaning. With a knowing smile and a conveniently placed couch, Link both signed the contract and finally found out how those pretty curls felt underneath his fingertips. 

 


	4. Leftover Beef Tenderloin are for Enablers Only

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly but surely this story continues. Thank you to all of the comments and kudos. They bring me life!!

 

“Seriously?”

Link pressed his right index finger around the rim of his drink. The rum and Coke nice, neat with just the correct amount of ice. Seven cubes all perfect squares. Unfortunately, the incredibly familiar glare from Chase was causing the otherwise flawless drink to taste slightly off. 

“You're making  _ way  _ too much out of - ”

Link stopped his fairly prepared excuse with the wave of Chase's hand. The exasperation was painted like delicate lines on every inch of the soft cheeks and tightly shut eyes of his long suffering bass player. 

“You slept with the Vice President of Contract Negotiations,” Chase began, his teeth set in a deep grimace that had Link concerned for his expensive dental work. 

“No. He gave me a blow job,” Link sighed, weary already of the conversation. “He had an appointment at 4:00 p.m., so there wasn’t the time to do anything else.”

This didn't help Chase understand at all. If anything, the younger man's jaw tightened. 

“Great. So your dick can time crunch.”

There was another beat of silence while Link was trying to figure out how quick Chase’s reflexes would be if he decided to hurl the rest of his ruined drink directly at the smaller man’s head. Link had always been shit at sports. 

“Is there an  _ actual _ reason why you were sitting in my house when I got back from the meeting?” Link hissed. It made more sense just to finish off the alcohol than to risk assault and battery. Especially when he was now technically a movie star. 

Chase rolled his eyes at the word  _ meeting _ , but seemed to decide not to push his luck with more sexual barbs. He saw how Link had taken a quick glance from his half full glass to look back towards his own face. It was easy to connect the near miss that had just occurred. 

“You didn’t answer any of my texts,” Chase muttered. “And at this point, if I’m going to be your god damned nanny, I might as well be able to lounge around your house and eat your leftover beef tenderloin.”

Link grunted as he tossed back the rest of the drink and hurriedly made another. He had been looking forward to that tenderloin. Had endured a pointless date with a hot male model who had eaten  _ way _ more food than his slender frame would have assumed. After the second dessert, Link had wondered to himself if the man had prepared his body for this meal like some sort of high cheekboned camel. His ass was definitely curvy enough to be a suitable hump. It had been nice to grab at when they had gotten back to Link's place. Link made him work off that second creme brulee indeed.

“You’re doing it right now, aren’t you?”

Chase’s voice cut through the air with a sharpness. His hands were on his hips as his chin jutted forward. The classic fighting pose that had Link realizing that this was indeed going to be an incredibly long day. 

“Doing what?” Link replied. His posture was much better for mild intimidation. He had at least a few inches on the smaller man, along with a deep five o’clock shadow and a raging amount of stylized bedhead.

Instead of answering, Chase placed a distant and faraway look on his rounded face. His eyes gave that same vacant stare that hit Link way too familiar to not have been witnessed hundreds of times. 

“I wasn’t thinking about - ”

“Yes, you  _ were _ ,” Chase snapped. “You were thinking about sex when I was literally yelling that you do nothing but think about sex.”

Another few ice cubes landed into glass, and a third drink was already swallowed down before the two men spoke again. Link could already hear the internal counting in Chase’s head, but fuck him. Three drinks before sundown was practically abstinence. Especially on a Wednesday.

“Look,” Chase said finally, though his voice was somewhat deeper than normal. “I’m not expecting you to not be…” 

Link blinked as he watched him struggle for the next word. His lips tense and jaw firm as he seemed to be running through the softest language possible to stop any real fight from happening between them. 

“I’m not expecting you to not be... _ you _ ,” Chase finished, almost apologetically. “Dark Horse Studios isn’t stupid, or blind. They knew what they got when they reached out to Link Neal of  _ Phoenix Rising _ .”

Another pause as Chase waited for the lead singer to grumble at the inference. Link said nothing. Glaring menacingly instead seemed like the better choice to make, so Chase continued.

“But for the welfare of your own health, and for the sake of the band, please tune down the whole  _ Sex, Drugs, and Rock & Roll _ persona until the end of filming at least? You can’t really be a working actor if you’re too strung out or dead...right?”

Link was still glaring, but it wasn’t as burning of a stare as before. Four drinks in, and there was the beginning of that familiar rubbing at the sharper edges of his mind. The warmth that settled into the bottom of his stomach and throughout his narrow bones. 

“You're bein’ overdramatic,” Link muttered. “I'm able to pace m’self when I need to.”

Chase smirked, and Link raised his eyebrows.

“What?”

“You know your southern accent only really comes out only when you're either shit faced or lying, Link...and you're not drunk yet.”

There was no reason to respond to such an obvious trap, so Link went back to glaring and pouring drink number five. There  _ were _ certain activities he could multitask. 

“How many lives do you think you have?” Chase powered on. “Three stints in rehab... officially at least. Then that bad hit of molly put you in the hospital for - ”

The glass was slammed onto the counter with way more force than Link meant. The top layer of ice cubes flew and skittered across the marble, but Link was too furious at the moment to care. 

“That wasn't my fault,” he hissed.

“Didn't say it was,” Chase replied coldly. “But thank God that I found you when I did, Link. And that I fucking know CPR.”

Link bit his bottom lip to stop himself from saying something too poisonous. It wasn't like Chase brought up what happened that night at all. He had even conveniently forgotten some of the stickier details to the medical staff as how Link Neal, self proclaimed fuck-the-world rock star had ended up naked and newly resuscitated in a day spa frequented by high-end escorts. 

That had been a very bad day.

The touch on Link's shoulder helped him realize where he was. His home, in the kitchen, with the only person who seemed to know when to call him out on his bullshit, and when to hold back. 

“You know that we...we all love you,” Chase whispered, catching the blue eyes of the taller man.

Link gave a soft chuckle, and shook his head. 

“ _ You _ love me,” Link corrected, his hand lifted up to point an index finger in the middle of Chase’s chest for emphasis. “Alex and Jordan  _ tolerate _ me, and you know it.”

There was a slight shrug of Chase’s shoulders at this, as if he would like to argue the point if he thought that it would actually make a difference. Of course it wouldn’t.

“Fine,” Chase said quickly. “Then do it because you have a whole lot of people who tolerate you, and depend on you, and really don’t want to see you fucking up this incredible opportunity for a few erections and a whole lot of drama.”

Link’s eyes brightened, and Chase groaned.

“That’s a  _ great _ line for a song,” Link said, his hands already pulling out his phone to type out what Chase just said. There was a blur of thumbs as Link tapped away, with Chase’s high pitched sounds of annoyance being ignored. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my beta reader supersassybatgirl. You are the reason why this story sounds coherent! Thank you!!❤️


	5. Links to the Past are Adorable and Punny to a Fault

Even now, over two decades later Link was able to dial the number without even needing to look on the keypad. The familiar tone of each number was as gentle as the voice that said the words that put him at ease once the call connected to the only part of home that he missed. The fluttered twang softened by the edge of a smile and THAT laugh. It was an honest giggle that Link could wrap himself up in and live in for the rest of time. It was a blanket of lingered 80s styled hair and flowy summer dresses.

“Hey, my special boy!”

“Hey, Momma.”

Sunday afternoons were reserved for her. The woman who despite everything still saw Link the way that no one else ever had. A bundle of loud and happy songs in a rusting station wagon on their way from church to the grocery store. This was before seeing the growth of tattoos that she sighed at, but tried her best to see the beauty in her own delicate way. As if she knew that the ink was destined to be just a part of who her only son was. News stories and videos aside.

“See you all over about that picture,” she cooed, and Link couldn’t help but feel heat around his cheeks. “My baby is gonna look so handsome on the big screen. Already have a few friends ready to cheer up a storm at the theater when you’re on the screen.”

Link cleared his throat, and his mother chuckled hard. He could just imagine the scandalized mouths opened wide as his character shoots cocaine and fucks one night stands in full technicolor. Southern belles they were not, and God fearing only when the holidays allowed, but still  _ Chrysalis _ was not for the faint of heart. Even three rewrites had only turned the independent film just past the R rating. ‘Artistic’ and ‘groundbreaking’ had never been code words for porn, but what Link had signed on the dotted line certainly came close in way too many places.

“Honey, I was around in the 70s,” she mentioned. “Not like I’m gonna be shocked into a coma or nothin’.”

This is the reason why Link placed the date of his mother’s birthday on the wrist of his left hand. To create a permanent mark to remind him, and the rest of the world, what happened on November 16th.

“I wrote a new song,” he muttered.

“You better let me hear it then.”

It had been a distant hum in the back of Link’s mind for the past couple of afternoons. A melody that buzzed in that gentle way. Not anything too distracting to push him from thoughts of second drinks or small looks from people to bring back to his place, but he kept revisiting the tune, and had placed enough words to it to make it worth a follow through.

And so he sang, and his momma listened, because that’s the way that it has always worked. There was a back and forth to what Link had with her that was beyond the drugs, alcohol and everything in between that made this matter. Just a little boy in a grown up overcoat showing his momma the pretty pictures that were in his head.

“You gonna put that song in the movie?” she asked, and the smile was in every single part of that question. Link felt it in every pore of his skin, and he rubbed absentmindedly at his left wrist.

“I don’t really make those type of rules, Momma.”

“You’re Charles Lincoln Neal the Third,” she scoffed back. “If the rules don’t work for you, then you change ‘em.”

Link didn’t think that he could grin so much that his jaw could physically ache, but his mother proved him wrong again. She was always good at that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always, supersassybatgirl. For being my beta light in the cave of my imagination. <3


	6. First Meetings Shouldn't Include Seeing Your Dick Unless Mutually Agreed Upon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a new chapter! Please let me know what you think!

There were three requirements that Link Neal had for his trailer on the set. That it would be packed with his favorite type of rum and plenty of small bottles of Coke. That every single sleeping surface was comfortable and durable, and finally, that if there was music from his band playing inside, to not knock on the door. Most of the filming crew had been informed of these rules, and the majority shrugged them off as just part of the ways of a difficult rock star transforming into a pampered movie star.

Rhett McLaughlin however, was not one of these people. 

When the celebrity rider was delivered into his hands by one of the production assistants on Monday morning, Rhett already knew that Link Neal was going to be trouble. The type of trouble that would eventually lead to him punching this same Link Neal in the face. To watch the smug expression Rhett saw as he scrolled websites about the rock star twist into shock at the power of Rhett’s knuckles on the oversized jawline.

Somewhere in the more sensible part of Rhett’s mind he realized that his hands were made for more important work. His guitar playing was the reason why he had been hired for the movie after all. To teach actors how to strum well enough to make the characters they were pretending to be more legitimate, and Rhett was very good at his job. 

Music was never a means to an end. It was a small piece of paradise that Rhett had found to surround himself in. A place where overindulged pricks in overplayed punk bands did not require his patience and skills. 

Rhett heard the moans before he actually saw the mouths making them. Link Neal's trailer door was cracked open just enough to allow for a peek in to the sultry debauchery to be seen from all angles. The woman's pale shoulders were stained pink with a mix of anticipation and drive. Her breasts were fake, but not desperately huge. More of a way of getting a second look during casting calls than to sleep her way to the top.

The curve of her ass held tight in tattooed fingers that Rhett notice had a lot more control then he assumed. They were the hands of a person who could at least hold a guitar, and that was a start. Link Neal might actually have some underlying talent after all.

The man _not_ slamming his pelvis into the blonde had a muscled build. Long auburn hair pulled back into a sweeping ponytail and at the moment, very interested in continuing to thrust with reckless abandon. Link Neal was in the middle of the very sweaty and groaning human sandwich. His mouth opened wide and eyes shut tight as he both fucked and was fucked. Rhett would add multitasking to the list of things that Link Neal could apparently do. 

Rhett had walked in on a threesome. Nothing he hadn't seen before. It was a side effect of being on the edge of the Hollywood life. To pick up the pieces of headlining stars and place them back together enough to make sure the public still cared. If Link Neal had not had such a reputation, then maybe that might have stopped Rhett from interrupting this semi private peep show. However Rhett saw this as a _teachable moment_.

"Suggestion for the future. Lock your door before you bang all your co-stars, Neal."

 


End file.
